Most likely by the time I get around to posting this entry I will have been at site for a month. Time passes slowly and yet the weeks fly by. With an obvious lack of work right now (so far I have met with my counterpart once…she is very busy right now, of course, I find myself wondering when she won’t be busy, but that is a story for another time) I have been doing quite a bit of reading, writing, and even some studying and working out from time to time, although not nearly as much as I should, especially with the amount of time I have on my hands.
I finished reading Into the Wild the other day (my fifth book in this country…two were during PST—I am now on my sixth). The book somehow works its way into my soul and strikes a resonating chord within. It reawakens the part of me that brought me here in the first place, the part that searches for meaning apart from materialism, that longs to commune directly with nature, to wipe out all of the distractions of the modern world. As Peace Corps Volunteers it is my sense that we all share this longing, this wanderlust, in some form or part and all have tucked away somewhere a romanticized version of our lives abroad.
And yet, here I am, typing on my computer, enjoying electricity and hot water the majority of the time…wandering what exactly it is that I am here for. What kind of good will I actually be able to do in this society? Patience is a crucial element in this delicate phase. I am “integrating” and learning about my new community, practicing my language (lord knows it needs it), and perhaps the thing I am doing the best right now: getting to know my site mates.
I am pondering this element of my service as I once again find myself packed into the back of a hot marshurtnie, squeezed between my American sitemate and an old Armenian man who keeps spreading his legs out, thereby taking up half of my already tiny seat. We bounce and swerve as only marshutnies can, the back door, only half-closed rattling about, threatening to spill the burgeoning pile of luggage onto the winding mountain road behind us. A heavy cloud of exhaust hovers over the back seat. I think I might be sick. I drown out American pop-star hits of the early 90’s with my headphones and drift into another intellectual mini-battle in my head.
The desert landscape and the mountains looming in the distance remind me of past jobs. Fulfilling, meaningful experiences with concrete expectations and defined goals. And then I think of the amorphous, ill-defined task that lies ahead of me now. I wonder if I can do it. My supporters say yes, in fact they have unnaturally high hopes for me. I wonder what they would think if they saw me this weekend driving an old-fashioned bumper car, gleefully ramming into my fellow volunteers. Or perhaps during one of my ill-fated encounters with the post office employees. Contrary to popular belief, no matter how many times you yell something rapidly in another language…I will still not understand.
It amazes me how such a little bump in the road, such as not being able to mail a simple letter….makes me question my existence in this country. It is as if I am going along just fine, collecting all of these insanely frustrating experiences, and then when the most minute inanity of them all pops up, I lose it.
Not to worry, the day got better. I actually met with my counterpart for the second time. Now I have met for one and a half hours!! Again, my language skills are less than desirable. Although she did figure out that if she spoke slower (quite a bit slower), then I could understand and actually participate in the conversation rather than simply nodding my head to everything that was said.
“Jill, how are you”
“yes”
“How is you host family treating you?”
“yes”
“What are your ideas for vayk?”
“yes”
So it’s a bit of an exaggeration, but not much… We did have a good meeting, and I got the chance to see the orchard and garden run by the NGO. Children work in it to raise saplings and grow produce to give to the poor. It is, at the very least, a viable platform to do something with in the future. Once I figure out how to say something besides ‘yes.’
Which brings me to another accomplishment for the week—getting further in my quest to start Armenian tutoring. I have now had two meetings with my potential tutor to try to establish this relationship and now we have gotten to the point where she will call me and set something up. Sigh. Things do move slowly here.
But in the process of learning to live in Vayk, I have learned to live more deliberately, to be more patient and not to expect instant results. Sending three emails and making one phone call takes three hours. That’s all there is to it. Which, in some ways is good, as it eats up the hours in my otherwise not so busy day. I am also learning to be unproductive. A skill that heretofore I have not possessed. And really, a good one for me to practice. What is the point in being constantly busy and overworked my entire life? Slow life means more time spent with friends and family, fresher more whole foods rather pre-fab stuff, and the ability to pursue various interests in terms of books and hobbies. The lack of English television also can’t hurt here.
As I adapt to life here I can understand the difficulty that many Peace Corps volunteers face when trying to reintegrate into US society. But for now, I am going to enjoy it as I figure out how to fit my job into the equation and learn more about this society and culture. And I do think things will pick up in the future. Until then I will continue to hike, explore the region and enjoy a lull in my schedule that I don't think I have ever experienced before....
